


And All My Wastelands Flower

by wordsmisleadinghere



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (up to a point anyway), 5 Times, Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Nightmares, Pining, Steve Rogers Angst, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsmisleadinghere/pseuds/wordsmisleadinghere
Summary: Steve didn’t want to wait too long or be late. Not this time. If he wanted to follow his instincts, he had to make a move now.So he does.And then…





	And All My Wastelands Flower

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the “5 times kissed” meme I’ve seen different roleplay blogs do. Title comes from the song [“Thickets” by Patrick Wolf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySBeOrElrUI), easily one of The Most Steve songs ever. Though that could be said for a lot of Patrick’s stuff, honestly.  
> Anyway, that first _Endgame_ trailer changed the direction I originally had for this piece, so I'm really glad I manged to get it out before the actual movie and its timeline completely obliterates it. I do still like the original fourth and fifth sections and hope I’ll be able to get them out some other way. We shall see.  
> For now? This angst.

_Went looking for my tower_  
_Off all the rails and the roads_  
_In need of resurrection_  
_As my desires and power_  
_Are growing in thickets_  
_Tall all around me_  
\- Patrick Wolf, “Thickets”

***

_July 2016_

They’d be heading to San Francisco soon. Steve didn’t want to wait too long or be late. Not this time. If he wanted to follow his instincts, he had to make a move now.

So he does.

And then…

Nothing.

He stops, pulls back. Wide, green eyes blink up him.

“What was that?” Scott whispers, his tone not accusing so much as bewildered.

“Sorry… Scott. I-I thought you, that _we_ bo–”

“You’re serious?”

“Fel– yeah. Absolutely.”

For a moment, there’s only the droning hum of the jet steadily drowned out by the increasing hammering of Steve’s heart. Then a flash of pink as Scott licks his lips before he closes the space between them. He yanks the front of Steve’s shirt in a shockingly assertive way, but the press of his lips is tender. At least at first. Steve just follows and feels. The scratch of stubble. The taste of peppermint.

When they break apart there’s a whimper Steve’s embarrassed to realize came from himself. Scott laughs breathlessly, stays close.

“You thought right,” he murmurs eventually, then smirks. “But you could’ve at least bought me dinner first.”

Steve laughs lowly. “That might be a little hard when we can’t go out in public.”

“Ah, the old ‘I’m a fugitive’ excuse. Typical.”

He can’t help but laugh again. “How’s about ‘we’ll see’,” he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss and without any hesitation Scott kisses back.

***

_January 2018_

Whether it’s in their letters or during their sporadic calls, they always choose their words carefully. Some of it is out of necessity – an ever-present fear of getting caught. While for Steve it’s also out of self-preservation of a different kind. The kind that says keeping Scott at emotional arm’s length will make the distance easier to bear.

But it doesn’t. Sometimes, Steve thinks, it only makes it worse.

And it’s those times, when thoughts, memories, words, and voice simply aren’t enough, that he finds himself back on that familiar doorstep. 

He knows he shouldn’t be there. It’s risky. So risky. For them both. Yet, just as he has many times before, Scott welcomes Steve in, into his home, into his bed, into his body for the brief respite they give from what their lives have become.

He wishes he could make their situation better. Somehow. Instead he feels like he’s leading Scott on, but can’t seem to stop himself either. Like a moth hopelessly drawn to Scott’s light. A light that guides, that warms, that he knows will keep his heart safe even if he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Scott doesn’t say it either. He doesn’t have to.

The hunger in his kisses leaves Steve breathless. The slow grind of Scott’s hips above him makes him briefly forget the ticking clock that hangs over them. The way he holds Steve so close afterwards. All say it before Scott’s shy whisper reaches his ears.

“I wish you could stay.”

***

_April 2019_

Steve bolts for the front door before the full sentence leaves Natasha’s lips.

He feels like he’s seen a ghost. Or like it’s some cruel prank from the universe. A hallucination cooked up as his stretched-thin mind finally reaches its breaking point.

But Nat. Nat saw it, too.

He jumps the staircases, narrowly missing Bruce along the way. He flies through the corridors, ignoring Rocket’s comment about the bathroom being in the opposite direction.

The door to the entrance lobby slams open and echoes in the emptiness. A quick scan of the room shows nothing, no sign of anyone.

“Scott?” he calls, much louder than necessary, and spins toward the sound of another door swinging open and a sorely missed voice.

“All this tech everywhere and no map?”

Any response Steve might’ve given stops dead in its tracks at the sight of Scott. He doesn’t know who moves first, but in a blink, Scott’s in his arms. Again. Their lips meet in a desperate crash. Steve’s mind a whirlwind of sensations and memories. Stubble. Peppermint. _Scott_. Solid and warm. So unlike the dreams he’s had on the rare occasions when his sleep has been deep enough, ones that make him believe for a fleeting moment that maybe Tha– the last year never really happened, only for Scott to disappear the moment they touch.

Now, though, his arms wrap tight around Scott, almost to the point that Steve worries he might hurt him. Except that Scott doesn’t appear to mind, clutching hard in return before he breaks the kiss with a little furrow of his eyebrows.

“You shaved,” he says, cringing as he swiftly buries his face in the crook of Steve’s neck.

And for the first time in what seems like such a very long time, Steve feels himself laugh. It’s a short, huff of a laugh that peters out as quickly as it bubbles up, but it’s something. A start.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” Scott mutters.

Steve smiles, but stays quiet. He just holds on. He feels Scott sigh as he smiles against Steve’s skin, notices all the tension that’s begun to leave Scott’s body. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he can’t bring himself to say or even _think_ , still, despite all those meetings with the support group. All he allows himself is one question, “Where have you been?”

***

_July 2019_

“Come on, Steve, I know you can move faster than that.”

“I’d move faster if you’d tell me where we’re going and why,” Steve says, his tone inquisitive, as he catches up to Scott where he stood at the end of the hall with his hands on his hips.

“I had to get you away from those Asgardians, man. The guys partied with them a few days ago and Dave and Kurt’re _still_ throwing up.”

He chuckles and they begin to walk side-by-side. “You don’t need to worry. I can hold my own with them.”

“Oh, I know,” Scott grins, “But I’m not being totally altruistic, I also wanted you to myself for a bit. Thought it might give us a chance to talk.”

“About what?”

“Um…” He jams his hands into his pockets. “Y’know…” Gives Steve a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. “Us.”

Steve’s stomach drops.

The weeks since the Reversal had been a time of reconnection and celebration. But the days of clean-up and rebuilding and near round-the-clock parties left little in the way of spare time or sleep. Many loose ends still needed tying, including, well, them, though Steve had done his best to avoid it. To delay the inevitable. The heartbreak.

They walk in silence until they reach one of the compound’s deserted libraries.

“Here,” Scott murmurs, opening the door and ushering Steve inside with a smile. “Wanna sit?” he offers, but Steve rests against the wall, arms crossed tight over his chest. Scott’s smile falls. “Right. I guess I should just get to the point.” He bites his upper lip and begins to pace. “I think it would be safe to say that our… arrangement hasn’t exactly been conventional and that’s okay, but y’know, now that everything has, well, the circumstances have changed – ”

“Look, Scott,” Steve interrupts, his gaze toward the floor. “I know what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?”

“Of course. No Accords. No house arrest. Your life can go back to what it was before.”

“You mean without you?”

Silence floods the air around them until Steve thinks he might suffocate.

“Is that what you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Steve whispers flatly.

“Oh, honey… yes, it does.” With those words, Scott crosses the room to stand in front of him. “Look at me.”

Steve hesitates for just a moment before gentle hand lands atop his wrist. He almost flinches at the sudden contact.

“Please,” Scott whispers.

He swallows down the lump in his throat and lifts his gaze. When their eyes meet Scott gives him a small smile, despite his watery eyes.

“What I was trying to say is that I think we might have a real shot now and,” he draws a deep breath, “And I think we should take it.”

Steve’s mind races. Tells him to be practical. _There are reasons this can’t work, even now_ , it says. _It’ll be dangerous. It’ll be hard. It’ll…_

And yet, looking into Scott’s eyes, so warm, so vulnerable, all of that ceases to matter. And Steve wants nothing more than to believe as Scott clearly does. Choosing to cling to that faith with all his might, pragmatism be damned.

“You know,” he begins slowly, “With our job I don’t think we’ll ever be truly conventional.”

The corner of Scott’s mouth quirks up briefly, “Probably not.”

“But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try… maybe make our own way.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“So do I,” Steve whispers, cupping Scott’s jaw in his hands and closing the distance between them.

This time when they kiss it’s soft, slow. They had all the time in the world now.

***

_May 2020_

It’s not that Steve doesn’t trust _him_. He does. Implicitly so. He knows Scott will still be there in the morning.

He said he would be. He promised as his fingers combed slowly through Steve’s hair, soothing him after a too real, too vivid nightmare had ripped Steve from his sleep.

He already knows.

But that knowledge doesn’t stop the wave of relief Steve feels when he actually sees Scott there in the bed beside him. Fiddling around on his phone. Humming under his breath. _As usual_ , Steve thinks. And that thought gives him not just relief, but comfort. Comfort in their closeness, no matter how mundane. Because it once seemed like something he couldn–

“Hey,” Scott looks toward him hopefully, “How’re you feeling?”

Steve gives him a small smile. “Better.”  

“Good,” he nods, holds Steve’s gaze intently, searching, before turning back to his phone. It’s a look Steve knows well. One that says, “You’d better not just be saying it, because I’ll know.”

Steve’s smile widens and before he knows it, he’s sliding closer to Scott, tugging the phone from his hands, flinging it to the carpet, and rolling on top of him.

“Uh, excuse me, mister,” Scott splutters, “I was just about to beat my high score!”

“I’m your highest score.”

“Wow. Not even I would use that line.”

“You would if you’d thought of it first.”

Scott frowns, but Steve can see a smile threatening to break through it. “Mmmaybe. Now, what was so important you needed to spoil my game?”

“Just this,” he says and presses a sweet but chaste kiss to Scott’s lips. When he pulls back he catches Scott smiling just before his eyes flutter open.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna cut it.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Well,” Scott drawls, running his hands up Steve’s back and along his neck, making the blond shiver. “You could not move from this bed all day today.”

Steve takes a moment to pretend to consider then asks, “Will there be snack breaks?”

“And all the cuddles you can stand.”

“Some bad television?”

“ _Oh_ , yeah!”

“You drive a hard bargain, Lang.”

“That’s not the only thing I drive hard,” he says with a wink.

And Steve laughs, long and loud. Each day that gets easier, doesn’t feel as foreign as it once did. Once he calms down, he rests his forehead against Scott’s, looks down into those endless and bright green eyes. “Guess I have no choice but to stay right here then.”


End file.
